


angels, artifacts

by catsvspatriarchy



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsvspatriarchy/pseuds/catsvspatriarchy
Summary: "Dating is such a nebulous term, wouldn't you say? It can cover so many situations."
-
Erin and Holtzmann talk after "and we're dating".





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello ghost friends!
> 
> technical note: most of my carefully chosen italics for emphasis are not showing up on post preview, so i might have to edit this later. or maybe this is AO3's way of telling me to cool it with the italics, friendo?
> 
> (NEVER)
> 
> edited to add:  
> technical note 2: fixed it and rethought my italics choices. (mission accomplished, AO3?)

Later that night, when everyone else has gone home and Erin and Holtzmann are the only ones left in the lab, Erin feels like she needs to clarify.

"We're not dating," she says, too loud in the near silence. She looks up and sees Holtzmann looking at her, a little bleary-eyed from the hour and the unmistakable amount of work she's put into both her new projects and the organization of the lab today. "I mean, you understand that, right? You and I? We're not dating."

"Erinnn," Holtzmann says. She leans her chin on her hand and pushes aside the blueprints she's been scribbling annotations on for the past half-hour. Not that Erin had been watching. "Dating is such a nebulous term, wouldn't you say? It can cover so many situations."

Erin shakes her head. "It kind of can't? I mean, it's dating, as in seeing someone, as in being someone's significant other - at least for the term of the day or the evening or the length of the dating relationship, as in - well, you know. Class rings and uh, being someone's girl, that kind of thing."

Holtzmann cocks her head to the side. "Well, if that's the definition, I probably agree with you. I don't have a lot of experience dating girls from the nineteen fifties, if that's what you meant. I mean, I have a class ring. I have several, if you want them. You have your own though, so it seems like it would defeat the purpose."

"You know what I mean," Erin says.

"I really don't. Come on, what's your definition of dating? I bet you I can prove it."

"It's - wait, what are you doing? Are you trying to trick me into saying we're dating?"

"No, no, I would never," Holtzmann says soothingly. " _Admit_ that we're dating, sure. Never trick."

Erin throws up her hands. "This is insane."

Holtzmann winks. "Sounds like something you'd say to someone you're dating. Part of the banter, you know. There's a whole genre of film devoted to it. No, wait, don't leave. Give me your marker, I'll make a list." She spins the whiteboard toward herself and uncaps Erin's pen. She draws a line down the center of the board, writes "What Constituts Dating" at the top, and adds an E and an H respectively to the top of each column.

"You spelled constitutes wrong," Erin says.

"Ah," says Holtzmann, and uses her sleeve to erase the 'S' and then prints 'ES' in its place. "How could I forget the E for everything I want?"

Erin twitches. "You can let that go, you know."

Holtzmann shakes her head. "I'm not sure I can."

"It wasn't aimed at you."

"But I caught it anyway, and now E _is_ for everything I want. It's like - say you go to a baseball game. Some guy in a funny hat hits the ball, aiming for the net, but it goes into the crowd instead and you catch it. It wasn't aimed at you, but it's still yours, right?"

"Holtzmann, have you ever been to a baseball game?"

"I was homeschooled," Holtzmann says defensively.

"Yeah," says Erin slowly. "I think that's the one thing you've told me about yourself that makes other things fall into place."

Holtzmann smiles. "That's nice of you to say. Now quit trying to get me off topic. What constitutes dating?"

Erin sighs. "Okay. Well, first you have to go on a date. Which we haven't. So that's it, really."

Holtzmann holds up a finger, writing on the board with the other hand. "Go. On. A. Date. Okay, I'm probably going to have to use my veto on this one."

"You don't get to veto!"

"Didn't I explain?" Holtzmann asks. "We each get two vetoes. It's like jury selection."

"That's-" Erin starts, and then stops. "Wait, so I can veto two of your definitions of dating?"

"When we get to mine, sure."

"Okay. Well, I've got more."

"I look forward to them," Holtzmann says. "But first, aren't you curious why I used my veto?"

"Um," says Erin. "Sure, I guess."

Holtzmann taps the marker on the edge of the board. "Because people can say they're dating when they've never been on an actual date, as in me picking you up in my sweet Thunderbird and us going to an ice cream social together. I'm not sure what an ice cream social is, either, before you ask me to take you to one." She raises her finger again as Erin starts to interrupt, then adds: "But they can say they're dating if they're just sleeping together." In block capitals in the H column, she writes 'SLEEPING TOGETHER'.

"Wait, what?" says Erin. "We never slept together."

Holtzmann shakes her head. "Cast your mind back," she says, sketching a panorama in the air with her hands. "We'd just finished kicking ghost ass and you were tired."

"That happens every day," Erin says.

"We'd just finished kicking _Rowan's_ ass and you were tired," Holtzmann corrects. "We flagged down the one working cab left in New York. You," she adds dramatically. "Fell asleep on my shoulder on the ride back to the office. Drooled a little. You look like an angel when you sleep, by the way. Slightly drooly angel. Anyway, I might have also dozed off a little. And there you have it. Sleeping together. I think we can contact Patty and Abby for verification if you need witnesses."

"Holtzmann," Erin says slowly.

"I'd add boo-yah, but it seems churlish at this point."

"Holtzmann!" Erin says. "That's - you know that's not what people mean when they say sleeping together. I mean, you know that, right?"

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow. "Really?" she says slowly, a hint of husk in her voice that reminds Erin of when they'd first met. Shameless flirting, she tells herself sternly, and just Holtzmann making a joke at her expense. Like now. "What do they mean, Erin?" Holtzmann goes on.

Erin doesn't know if it's the voice thing or the topic of conversation, but she can feel herself blushing to her roots even before she opens her mouth to answer. "You know," she says awkwardly, after too long a pause. "Making love."

Holtzmann taps the pen against her lips, seemingly in thought. "I think it's too early, Erin," she says, after a moment. "Our relationship's not at that point. I mean, if you insist, but I'm kind of tired and you'll probably end up doing most of the work. Not that I'm not into that-"

"Holtzmann!" Erin hisses. "That was not a proposition. That was a - a description. Of what the phrase means. Not of what I want-"

"Uh huh," Holtzmann says. "So, do you want to use your veto?"

Erin frowns. "I think I made a clear case for-" she catches Holtzmann's eye and frowns. "Yes, I want to use my veto."

"Okay," says Holtzmann, and draws a line through 'SLEEPING TOGETHER'. "You can't say I'm not approaching this fairly."

"Mm, I'm pretty sure I can," Erin says.

“It's your turn again,” Holtzmann points out.

“Okay,” says Erin. “Um.”

“Take your time,” Holtzmann says. “I'm sure you'll think of something.”

Erin rolls her eyes. “I don't need time to think of something. It's sorting through the huge amounts of evidence that we're not dating that's taking time.”

Holtzmann sits down again, and puts her chin in her hands and watches her. “I always said your brain was like a supercomputer.”

“You never said that,” Erin says. “No one has ever said that.”

“I might be a little rusty on the old pick up lines,” Holtzmann admits. “But you motivate me to improve. Come here often?”

“Stop that,” says Erin, feeling color rise again in her cheeks, which is ridiculous. This is ridiculous. “That's another reason we can't be dating. We can't even carry on a conversation – you go onto these weird tangents and I get mixed up until I don't even know what we were talking about anymore.”

Holtzmann stands up. “Sounds like what we have here is a failure to communicate. I'll write it on the board.” She looks over her shoulder at Erin as she does so. “You know, I'm just saying, but that seems like something you would complain about with someone you were dating. Not a reason to prove you're not dating.”

“Holtz, there are a million reasons that prove we're not dating. Primarily, that we're not. We're just not.”

“Pfff,” says Holtzmann. “There are a million reasons why we are. I can list five right now without even thinking. One, that.” She points at Erin's cheeks, and Erin feels the heat traitorously rise higher.

“I'm blushing because you're being like this,” Erin says firmly. “Also, it's hot in here. When did it get so hot?”

A slow grin spreads over Holtzmann's face. “I'd use that as my second proof, but low-hanging fruit. Two, Swiss Army knife.”

“What?” says Erin.

Holtzmann ignores her. “Three, last night you bought me dinner. It was a dinner date.”

“You had no money so I bought you a taco! You never have money. We have a grant now, Holtzmann, do you even pay your rent? If you get kicked out of your apartment-”

“Four,” Holtzmann interrupts. “You worry about me. It's charming.”

Erin pauses. “I'll give you that one. I do worry.”

“We'll probably argue about it at some stage, because I've kind of got the free spirit thing going on, I'm a wild animal that can't be tamed and can't live by your time frames and your schedules and your rent due dates and your Uber apps. But we've got years for that, so let's not borrow trouble right now.”

“What?”

“Five,” Holtzmann says. She moves away from the whiteboard and takes two steps to where Erin's standing against the desk. She stops, then, as Erin watches silently, takes another step forward until she's right in Erin's personal space.

Their eyes meet. Holtzmann's an inch or two shorter than her, but Erin's wearing sneakers and Holtz is wearing thick-soled acid resistant work boots, so she has to tilt her chin a little. Holtzmann's eyes are clear blue, and the look she gives Erin makes her skin tingle.

“Uh,” says Erin. She tries to take a step backward, but the desk is right at her butt, so she rests her hands on it, on either side of her body, and tries to look casual and unaffected. “You were-” Her voice comes out too high. She clears her throat. “You were saying, five?”

“Five,” Holtzmann says, and the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips tells Erin she isn't fooled. “If I went to kiss you right now, you'd kiss me back.”

“Oh,” says Erin, breaking Holtzmann's gaze to look down. “Oh, um, but you're not going to do that because this is our workplace and things could get awkward – I mean, more awkward than they're probably going to be, ha, already, with the flirting and, god, it's so hot, should we check the boil-”

Holtzmann takes the last step.

There's a crystalline moment where her hands meet Erin's on either side of Erin's hips. There's a moment where Erin notices everything – sounds from the street below, the tick of the flickering light bulb on the other side of the room she really needs to replace, the lone curl that's escaped from Holtzmann's tied-up hair and brushes her cheek, the feeling of every single nerve ending in her body apparently relocating to her hands where they're wrapped in Holtzmann's, held firm as though to prevent her escape.

She finds she doesn't want to escape, and when Holtzmann's thumb slips under her hand and grazes her palm; slowly, slowly, Erin feels the air rush out of her mouth. She leans forward instinctively, not sure if she's leaning into Holtzmann or moving away, and then Holtzmann lifts a hand from Erin's and places it softly on her neck, and Erin feels a jolt of heat where they connect, and it shivers down her spine. And then Holtzmann's pressing against the length of her body, and then her lips are against Erin's, and then she's nipping at the corner of Erin's mouth and then Erin's brain makes this kind of whining sound and then it shuts down completely.

She's kissing back before she knows what she's doing, curving her spine to grind into Holtzmann's hips with her own, her tongue pressing against Holtzmann's chapped lips. There's a grunt of surprise that she thinks is from Holtzmann, but it's entirely possible it comes from her, and then Holtzmann opens her mouth and presses back and Erin feels the burn in her spine travel to every corner of her body simultaneously. She feels herself jerk backwards, and the heat gets too much. She pulls her hand out of Holtzmann's, finds Holtzmann's hips, and pushes back.

“Wait,” she gasps. “It's too – it's-”

Holtzmann takes a step backward, and raises her hands out to the side, as if to show she's unarmed.

“Sorry,” she says, and when Erin tries to catch her gaze, she looks down. “Sorry. My mistake.”

“No,” Erin says, but it comes out softer than she intended and she barely hears it herself.

“Won't happen again,” Holtzmann says, still looking at the floor. She takes another step back, and Erin feels the loss of heat through her body as she moves away. “I should-”

“Wait,” says Erin, shaking her head to clear it. “No, Holtz, I said wait.”

Holtzmann freezes in place, and the stricken expression on her face softens a little. “Wait?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“Wait,” Erin confirms. “I – okay, um, constructing sentences is probably not going to be – um, wait.”

“I'm waiting,” Holtzmann says.

Erin takes a breath, then another, deeper one. “That wasn't a 'no',” she says finally.

Holtzmann looks back up at her then, and the light in her eyes and the smile that spreads across her face is blinding. “It was a 'wait'?”

Erin nods, and is about to explain that it's overwhelming and she needs a second, but all of a sudden it's not so overwhelming and she doesn't need a second, and she takes two steps forward and crashes herself right into Holtzmann.

Holtzmann takes a step back to right herself, but Erin's already kissing her again. This time, Holtzmann's slower to respond, but then her hands come up to cradle Erin's face and she kisses her back like she's drinking from a well.

This time, Holtzmann's the first one to pull back. “Okay,” she says. Her voice is calm, but Erin can tell she's a little out of breath.

“Okay,” says Erin, tapping the fingers of one hand against her thigh to calm down. “Okay.”

“If it wasn't a 'no',” Holtzmann says slowly. “You pushed me away a little hard there, Hulk.”

“I'm sorry,” Erin says immediately. “I was-” she casts around for the word. “I didn't expect – I didn't expect that.”

Holtzmann tilts her head. “Expect what, exactly?”

Erin hums, frustrated.

Holtzmann takes a step to the side and taps the whiteboard that Erin had completely forgotten about. “Failure to communicate, right? That's the issue with us dating.”

“We're not-” Erin starts, and then stops herself. “I just felt like every atom in my body was about to explode.”

“In a good way, though, right?” Holtzmann asks, and Erin's surprised at how tentative her voice is. “I mean, obviously I hear that all the time-”

“Really?” asks Erin.

“No,” admits Holtzmann. “Not really.”

Erin bites her lip. “Yeah,” she says softly. “In a good way. In a good but holy shit, this is not what I expected when I came into the lab today way.”

“I gotta say, same.”

Erin pauses. “Really? With the 'we're dating'? And this?” she points to the whiteboard.

“I kind of thought you were kidding,” Holtzmann says. “I kind of still think you might be kidding. Are you kidding?”

For a second Erin wants to take this way out, to laugh it off and pretend this is all a joke, ha ha, oh we have fun. It's just a second, though, and in that second she also remembers Holtz's lips against hers, and the tiniest, faintest moan that escaped Holtz's mouth when their lips first met that she's still not sure if she imagined.

She really wants to find out if she imagined it.

“I don't think I'm kidding,” she says softly.

“I don't think I'm kidding either,” says Holtzmann. “So,” she says slowly. “Dating.”

Erin laughs. “Come on. I think I definitively proved we're not dating.”

Holtzmann narrows her eyes. “We remember things very differently, Erin. I'm pretty sure I proved we are.”

Erin considers for a moment. “Well, I guess there's only one way to settle it.”

“Ice cream social?” Holtzmann says. “I already own a leather jacket. Do I have to slick my hair back, or-?”

“There's the other thing,” Erin says, and glances at the whiteboard, then back to Holtz.

She watches Holtzmann look toward the whiteboard, read the words she'd written but apparently forgotten, blink, then look back at her.

“Oh,” says Holtzmann. “Oh.”

“I mean,” Erin says hurriedly, feeling the blush rising yet again. “As – an option, for the future? I'm not saying right now. I'm just saying maybe we could consider exploring this topic further. If you wanted.”

“Um, yes,” says Holtzmann, and grabs her hand, pulling her closer. “Too much?”

Erin shakes her head. “Not too much. Definitely not too much.”

“Good,” says Holtzmann, and leans down to whisper in her ear. Erin shivers as Holtz's lips graze her earlobe. “Do me a favor?”

“What?” Erin asks, on a breath.

“It's something really important to me,” Holtzmann says. “It's something I've never really discussed with anyone before this. I'm not sure we're at a point in our relationship where it's okay to talk about it, but I feel I have to.”

Erin feels her mouth dry up. “What?” she asks again.

Holtzmann nips her ear. “Say 'making love' again.”

Erin pulls away, pulls her hand of out Holtzmann's and slaps at her arm. “Be serious, for once.”

“I am serious, Erin. It did things to me.”

“Stop.”

Holtzmann's smile widens. “Oh, I think it's better if you know this from the start. Once I get going, I'm never going to stop.”

“Was that supposed to be innuendo or a threat?”

“Lady's choice, Erin. Lady's choice.”

“I'm going to regret everything that happened here tonight, aren't I?”

“I'm pretty sure,” Holtzmann says. “So we might as well go big.”

Erin looks at her. More strands of hair have escaped from their tieback, and they curl out and around Holtzmann's face.

“Okay,” she says. “Since apparently we're dating but, by mutual consensus have never been on a date, you should probably be providing dinner.”

“Not a problem,” Holtzmann says, leading the way to the door. She holds it open for Erin with a dramatic flourish, and Erin walks through with only the slightest hesitation. She stands inside the overhang while Holtzmann locks up, her mind in a pleasant buzz of anticipation.

“Holtz,” Erin says, distractedly turning, and Holtzmann appears behind her. She slips a hand into the back pocket of Erin's jeans and squeezes. Erin jumps.

“Nice muscle definition,” Holtzmann says approvingly.

“Argh,” says Erin. “Okay, you can _not_ do that out in public.”

“Erin,” says Holtzmann. “Erinnn. You have so little faith in me. I'm hurt.”

Erin raises an eyebrow, but she can already feel her mouth curling up into a smile.

“So, about me treating you to dinner,” Holtzmann says, extracting her hand from Erin's pocket and slinging it over her shoulders instead. “Dumpster diving – for or against?”


End file.
